


let's do it (let's fall in love)

by spaceburgers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Childhood Friends, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, my god, self-indulgence: the fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceburgers/pseuds/spaceburgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Bucky and Steve go from clueless Gryffindor first-years to slightly-less-clueless seventh-years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's do it (let's fall in love)

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this pairing doesn't have nearly enough Hogwarts AU fics, so I decided to remedy that. Also, this pairing doesn't have NEARLY enough fluff either. This is the fic to read in between all the depressing post-Winter Soldier speculation fics.
> 
> Also, shameless schmoopy fluff, justified by the fact that the majority of the cheesy bits takes place in their sixth/seventh year where they're sixteen/seventeen year olds in love for the first time, give them a break.
> 
> Warnings for underage sex, though in the wizarding world you _technically_ come of age at seventeen, so, eh. Other warnings for mentions of bullying and mentions of being orphaned.

Bucky is eleven years old, and he is terrified.

He sits in an empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express, alone, scared, clutching at his new robes, fingers curling in the stiff fabric. Of course he’ll never admit to anyone he’s scared, of course not, because he’s Bucky Barnes and he’s not scared of _anything_ , and definitely _not_ by the prospect of having to leave his family for the very first time.

And so he sits in his empty compartment, fingers curling and uncurling at robes that feel far too big for him, and then suddenly the door slides open and someone pokes his head in.

“Sorry, is this compartment taken? Everywhere else is full.”

Bucky turns to look at the stranger at the door—short, skinny, looking just as lost as Bucky feels right now, and maybe it’s a combination of all three that makes Bucky smile, for the first time since he’d climbed aboard the train and bid his parents goodbye.

“Nope. Come in.”

The boy smiles back, looking immensely relieved, and slides onto the seat across Bucky.

“Hi,” he says, extending a hand. “I’m Steve.”

-

Hogwarts is very big and very confusing. The stairs move and the portraits talk and the headmaster looks older than time itself.

Still, Bucky is feeling a lot more comfortable than he did back in the train, happy with the knowledge that he’s made his first friend—who thankfully got sorted into the same house as him—and they settle into the same room together, claiming a four-poster bed each, side by side to each other.

The other two boys who share the room with him introduce themselves as Clint and Sam. They look completely overwhelmed and yet at the same time incredibly excited, which mirrors Bucky’s own feelings, and when he finally goes to bed at the end of the day he’s sure that he’ll manage to make a home for himself here in Hogwarts.

-

Bucky loves Defense Against The Dark Arts and despises Potions. Steve, of course, is incredible at Potions but once accidentally caused a small explosion in Defense that almost tore their professor’s right ear off.

“How are you so good at this?” Bucky mutters over his cauldron, his solution turning a very startling shade of green even though according to his textbook it should be a pale, milky white.

“My grandma brews potions for a living,” Steve explains, stirring at his own potion calmly, and of course their professor chooses that exact moment to pass by the two of them. She takes one look at Steve’s cauldron, nods approvingly, and then promptly moves on to Bucky’s, where her expression turns sour so quickly Bucky is actually pretty impressed.

“Barnes,” she says, her tone sharp. “We have a lot of work to do, it seems.”

“Yes, professor,” Bucky mumbles, eyes downcast, and when she moves away to check on the other students he nudges Steve in the ribs.

“Stop laughing,” he hisses, and Steve nods, but keeps on giggling anyway.

-

The thing is, though, Bucky can’t even begrudge Steve for his prowess in Potions by the sheer fact that he doesn’t have the right to.

They’re not supposed to use offensive magic outside of class, but it’s not like the rule is actually ever enforced, but Bucky thinks it really _should_ be, because if it were then the bullies wouldn’t be able to get away with all the Leg-Locker Curses and Slug-Vomiting Charms that they’ve hit Steve with over the weeks.

Really, one of the reasons why Bucky’s advanced so far in Charms and Defense Against The Dark Arts is because he’s constantly had to find himself poring through the pages of The Standard Book of Spells, trying to find this counter-curse or that counter-jinx.

Over time he picks up the Episkey spell too—useful for healing minor injuries, so Steve doesn’t have to go visit the nurse every single week to get his wounds patched up.

“You can’t let this go on, Steve,” Bucky spits one day, pressing a damp cloth to Steve’s arm where an ugly bruise is forming. “You need to tell someone.”

But Steve just shakes his head. “’S alright, Bucky. Learning some spells in my free time. Hey, maybe you could let me practice disarming you some time?”

And Bucky wants to tell him not to be stupid, that a stupid Disarming Charm isn’t going to ward off the bigger third and fourth year Slytherin bullies, but he keeps his mouth shut, and applies just a little bit more pressure on the cold compress.

-

The year ends. They both manage to pass, although just by the skin of their teeth for particular subjects. Both of them return home from Christmas, and Steve gives Bucky his address, tells him to come by someday, maybe a couple of days before Christmas, and Bucky agrees.

It’s the Saturday after Christmas that Bucky finds himself standing outside Steve’s front door. His house is a lot smaller than Bucky’s, in a town that he’s never even set foot in his entire life. He’s got his mom’s pumpkin pie balanced on one hand, a peace offering to Steve’s family, and he steps forward and knocks.

It’s Steve who opens the door, and the moment he sees it’s Bucky, his entire face lights up almost immediately, lips stretching out into a wide grin.

“Bucky! Glad you could make it,” he says, letting Bucky in.

As he toes off his shoes, Bucky notices the peeling wallpaper, the rickety floorboards.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the pie at Steve. “From my parents to yours.”

The smile on Steve’s face drops off completely at those words, the corners of his lips turning downwards, and it’s then that Bucky realizes why, in all their months of friendship, Steve has never mentioned his mom or dad even once.

They don’t speak about it again. The pie remains cold on Steve’s kitchen counter.

-

Bucky becomes Gryffindor’s newest Chaser in his third year. He also wins his first Quidditch match in the same year.

He’s the center of attention at the after-party in the Gryffindor common room—the new third-year Chaser who singlehandedly scored four goals his first game, and Bucky basks in the praise.

He’s in the middle of telling a pretty fourth year the story about how he’d broken into his family’s broom closet and stolen his older brother’s broom at six years old when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve slip away from the party, ducking into the doorway leading to the boys’ dormitory.

Immediately he stops talking, weaves his way through the crowd to put a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve, wait—”

“Don’t worry about me, Bucky, I don’t wanna rain on your parade,” Steve says, smiling, but Bucky can _see_ that it’s forced.

“No, c’mon, you’re with me.”

But Steve just shakes his head and manages to duck away from Bucky’s grasp, up the stairs that lead to his dorm room, leaving Bucky standing alone in the corridor.

(He makes a point to look out for Steve after every single match from then on, whether it’s a win or lose. He doesn’t say that it’s not a victory without Steve, and it’s not a loss if Steve’s still standing there at the end of the day.)

-

Steve is made a Gryffindor prefect in his fifth year. He’s so confused by the appointment that he actually writes back to the headmaster to ask if they’ve made a mistake.

Bucky’s happy for him, he really is, and when he sees Steve at King’s Cross with the prefect badge gleaming proudly on his robes, he punches him lightly on the arm.

“Hey there, Prefect Rogers,” he says, laughing, and though Steve tells him to shut up, Bucky can tell he’s secretly pleased.

What Bucky won’t tell him, though, is that he’s happy for Steve, not just because he’s finally getting the recognition he deserves—but also because it’s going to be a _big_ help in keeping the bullies at bay.

Sure enough, the first time a Gryffindor sixth-year goes at him with his wand raised, Steve just looks at him calmly and says, “If you cast a spell, that’s twenty points from you and detention with Filch every week for the next month.”

That shuts the bully up quick. Bucky turns away so Steve won’t see him smile.

-

With fifth year, however, also comes OWLs.

“I’m dead,” Bucky proclaims, his textbook thrown over his face as he sinks down into his chair. “I’m gone. Go on without me, Steve. It’s too late for me now.”

Steve leans over the table and snatches the book off Bucky’s face.

“Get to work, Barnes,” Steve chides, trying to sound serious but not quite succeeding with the lilt of amusement in this voice. “If you’re gonna be an Auror you need the best of grades.”

“Maybe I’ll just work in Muggle Relations,” Bucky says, glumly. “I could do that. Talk to Muggles all day and get paid for it.”

“And what, leave me to fight dark wizards all on my own?”

Bucky eyes Steve with a look that’s somewhere in between frustration and annoyance, but Steve just keeps on smiling, holding Bucky’s textbook out to him.

“You’re a jerk,” Bucky finally mumbles, taking his textbook from Steve’s outstretched arm. “And I hate you.”

“I know, Bucky,” Steve says, fondly, and returns to his battered copy of A History of Magic. 

-

Steve’s staying over at Bucky’s when they both get their OWL results.

“Seven OWLs!” Bucky yells, grinning, waving his letter in Steve’s face.

“Eight,” Steve returns with a smile, and Bucky flings his letter at Steve.

“Show-off!” he declares, but there’s no bite in his words. He’s too happy to care.

-

The next time Bucky sees Steve after he returns home for the rest of the holidays is at King’s Cross.

He’s standing at the platform, waiting for Steve—what has become their routine after years of friendship—when there’s a tap on his shoulder.

He turns around and—

 _Wait_.

There’s a boy standing in front of him with Steve’s face, but with what _definitely_ isn’t Steve’s body last time he checked.

There’s a very long silence as Bucky stares and Steve smiles sheepishly.

“…Growth spurt?” Steve tries, and Bucky just keeps on staring.

-

It’s only later, on the train ride to Hogwarts, that Steve explains.

“My grandma made me test out one of her latest potions,” he says, looking down at his knees. “And uh… I guess it worked.”

“Oh yeah, I can see that,” Bucky says, grinning, and he doesn’t expect it at all when Steve’s face turns a deep shade of red at his words.

He expects it even _less_ when he feels his own cheeks heat up in response.

-

They’re on their way to the Gryffindor common room after the feast when they’re accosted by a girl Bucky’s never even seen before.

“Hi,” she says, a little breathlessly, and she’s staring at Steve so intently that it’s making even Bucky a little uncomfortable. “You’re Steve, right? I was wondering if you’d be free some time this weekend, before classes really start proper to—y’know, hang out—”

Bucky’s eyes go wide when the meaning of her words finally hit him.

Someone is asking Steve Rogers out.

Bucky Barnes, star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, is standing right there, and someone is ignoring him in favour of asking Steve Rogers out.

He turns to look at Steve and—

Bucky can’t help it. All the shock evaporates out of him immediately when he catches sight of Steve’s expression.

He looks _massively_ uncomfortable, like a deer in the headlights, and if he wasn’t such a nice guy he’d probably be running away as fast as he could in the opposite direction right about now.

“Um,” Steve says intelligently as the girl awaits his response, twirling a lock of hair with a finger as she smiles in a way that’s probably meant to be flirty but only manages to come across as creepy.

“Actually,” Bucky interrupts, stepping forward to take his place next to Steve. He throws his arm around Steve, and tries to ignore the _what the hell are you doing_ look that Steve casts him. “He’s taken.” Steve’s looking even _more_ confused now, and the girl’s smile is falling off her face, and this moment is so priceless that Bucky can’t stop himself as he goes one step further to cement the punch line: “By me.”

Steve’s eyes go so wide it looks almost comical, and the girl somehow manages to look disappointed, disbelieving and distraught all at the same time.

“Oh,” she says, quietly. “Okay, then. Sorry.” And then she speeds off in the opposite direction, and it’s only when Bucky’s sure she’s out of earshot that he drops his arm and finally _laughs._

“Holy shit,” he gasps, bending forward and slapping his thigh, he’s laughing so hard, “did you see her face? That was _priceless_.”

And he keeps on laughing and laughing and laughing—until he realizes Steve’s not joining him.

“Hey,” he says, straightening up to look Steve in the eye (except Steve’s taller than him now, and he has to look _up_ instead of _down_ now, and this is really going to take some time to get used to, isn’t it?) “What’s wrong?”

“Oh,” Steve says, faintly. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong. I’m just—still shocked, I guess.”

“Uh… okay then. If that’s just what it is,” Bucky says, even though he’s not at all convinced by Steve’s words. But he doesn’t pursue it—doesn’t want to.

They return to their dorm room in silence.

-

Over the next few days Bucky is there to witness Steve get asked out by girls who wouldn’t even have given him a second glance before his grandma’s crackpot potion—a Slytherin fourth-year, a Hufflepuff seventh-year, a Ravenclaw sixth-year, the list goes on.

Bucky responds to each instance with laughter and by teasing Steve about it for the next seven days straight, and he tries to will away the uncomfortable feeling in his gut every time another pretty girl bats her eyelashes at Steve.

It’s stupid, for Bucky to be jealous of Steve like that—it’s not like he’s ever had trouble getting a date when he wanted to, and it’s not like he has the right to begrudge Steve for finally getting the attention he deserves either.

Maybe he’s just a terrible friend.

It’s that thought that makes Bucky continue to laugh and joke every time it happens, pretending that he doesn’t care when he does, oh he really does.

-

“You know,” Clint says to Bucky one day while they’re studying in the common room—Steve’s not there with them, because he’s the only nutcase who decided to take History of Magic as a NEWT subject, “it would be a lot easier for all of us if you just asked Steve out already.”

Bucky responds by coughing and spluttering and almost choking on the Every-Flavor Bean that’s already halfway down his throat.

When he finally comes up for air his face is hot, but that’s only because his roommate of six years just decided to attempt to murder him via induced choking.

“What the hell, Barton? Did your brain get splinched during Apparition classes or something?” Bucky mutters in between bouts of coughing, while Clint just smirks.

“You know what I’m talking about, Bucky, don’t try to hide it.” Clint leans forward, his Potions essay lying abandoned on the table. “I’ve only had to sit through your unresolved sexual tension for, what, five years now?”

“Unreso— _Barton_ ,” Bucky snaps, and Clint puts his hands up in mock-surrender.

“Seriously, man. Just think about it,” Clint says, and then (wisely) decides to return to his homework, leaving no room for further discussion on the topic.

Bucky tries to go back to his own essay as well, but the words just aren’t coming to him.

After ten minutes he puts his quill down and packs his parchment away.

“I’m gonna go for Quidditch practice,” he murmurs, and then flees before Clint can say anything else.

-

Bucky pushes Clint’s words to the back of his mind, and _definitely_ doesn’t think about it when Steve starts dating a Ravenclaw seventh-year called Peggy and stumbles back to their dorm room after their first date red-faced and googly-eyed.

Quidditch practice helps to take his mind off things. It helps even more that their upcoming match is against Ravenclaw. He definitely _doesn’t_ think about this Peggy Carter (whom he hasn’t even met before, but still) as he practices smashing the Quaffle into the goal hoops, again and again and again.

The day of match also turns out to be a huge fucking downpour, but nobody has ever let _that_ stop a good game of Quidditch before, and so Bucky heads onto the field with his teammates, getting soaked to the skin within seconds of stepping out.

The game starts, and it’s a nightmare. Bucky can’t really see, not really, just flashes of red and blue robes that pass him by, and he can hardly see where the ball is sometimes, and dimly, in the back of his mind, he wonders if maybe cancelling the match would have been the sensible thing to do after all.

Someone throws him the Quaffle, and he misses it; it falls, heading to the ground, and Bucky curses, pointing his broom downwards and speeding towards it before the Ravenclaw chasers get a hold of it. He’s gaining speed, reaching out with one hand to grab the ball and—

He feels the impact on his side, so great it knows him off his broomstick, and somewhere in the back of his mind he registers it as a rogue Bludger. The Quaffle escapes his grip once more and he’s falling—dimly he can hear the panicked yelling of his teammates, but it’s muffled by the roar of the rain, and he’s not thinking of anything at all when he finally hits the ground and everything goes black.

-

“…awful, dangerous sport, don’t know _why_ they were still let out in this weather, should just _ban_ the game completely—”

Bucky comes to slowly, groggily, and the first thing he’s aware of is Madam Pomfrey muttering to herself about how stupid Quidditch is as a sport.

He shifts, eyes still shut, murmurs quietly, “No can do, ma’am, Quidditch is here to stay.”

“Bucky?”

There’s another voice to his left, much louder and clearer than Madam Pomfrey’s distant mutterings from the other side of the room, and Bucky cracks one eyelid open to see Steve sitting by his bed, frowning.

He’s gripped by the sudden urge to reach out to smoothen away the deep cut of Steve’s furrowed brows with his fingers, but then he realizes he can’t, because he can’t feel his left hand at all.

“Steve?” Bucky mutters, trying to sit upright, but his muscles scream at him in protest and Steve is there to help him back into a lying position, so that’s alright then. “How did the match go? Did we—”

“We won,” Steve says, smiling now, and Bucky smiles back too, happy that Gryffindor managed to win even without him and pleased that Steve’s finally stopped frowning and his eyebrows aren’t knitting together anymore. “The Snitch got caught barely a minute after you fell.”

“’S good then,” Bucky murmurs, closing his eyes, still smiling in contentment. “And how did your girlfriend take the loss?”

There’s a beat of silence, and Bucky opens his eyes again to look at Steve.

“…We broke up yesterday,” he says abashedly, looking down at his knees. Bucky’s eyes widen, and he tries to shift himself up again but to little success. “I meant to tell you after the match.”

“What? Why? Thought you had something good going on.”

Steve bites his lip, and Bucky just stares at Steve, blinking.

“Well, I— _She_ broke up with _me_ , technically, but it was kind of my fault, so—”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts, turning to face Steve. “If you don’t tell me why you broke up with that perfectly nice girl I’m going to march over to the Ravenclaw common room right now and ask her myself.”

Steve winces at the edge of Bucky’s words, and Bucky knows that Steve knows he’s perfectly serious about carrying through with that threat.

He sighs, fidgets in his seat and continues looking down at his clasped hands.

“Peggy said that… I mean, she said that she really liked me and all, but she—it was pretty clear I wasn’t really into her, y’know.”

Bucky keeps on staring, and Steve’s face starts to turn red.

“I mean, I liked her. I really did. She was real nice, and sweet. Really smart too. But I mean, she was right, and I must’ve been really obvious if even Peggy could tell that I—”

“Steve,” Bucky says again, cutting Steve off mid-sentence. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Steve’s face is _very_ red now, and he’s twisting his hands together nervously in his lap, a bad habit that’s stuck with him ever since they were kids, and Bucky—if Bucky’s heart is thundering in his chest it doesn’t mean anything at all.

“I think me and Peggy would work out some other time,” Steve says, slowly, as if he’s testing out the words. “But not when I’m still hung up over someone else.”

Bucky wants to ask _who_ , but he’s not stupid. He knows what Steve’s talking about. He’s known him for six years now, and Steve—Steve is an open book, complete with chapter guides and highlighted text and annotations in the margins.

Which is why Bucky is _really_ feeling like an idiot for not noticing it sooner.

“Oh,” he says, faintly. He’d really like to reach out towards Steve right now, but he’s again reminded of how useless his left arm is, so all he can do is look at Steve and smile, knowing that he looks like a damn fool right now, but then again Steve has seen him at his best and at his worst and everything else in between, and yet he’s still here, and—

“Steve,” Bucky says, and Steve’s head snaps upwards almost immediately to look at Bucky, and god, his face is still so red and even though he’s grown about twenty centimeters he still manages to look like a scared puppy and Bucky’s a downright _idiot_. “You should have said.”

The relief that floods through Steve is practically palpable; the line of tension in his shoulder breaks, and he smiles, _really_ smiles, and Steve leans forward and takes Bucky’s useless left arm in his hand.

“Sorry,” Steve says, swiping his thumb along the knuckles of Bucky’s hand. “I’m an idiot.”

“You are,” Bucky agrees, smiling so widely that his cheeks are starting hurt a little but he can’t quite bring himself to care. “But so am I, so we’re even.”

They sit in silence for a long time after that, Bucky’s hand in Steve’s, until finally Madam Pomfrey comes over and chases Steve out, muttering about dangerous sports and children needing adequate rest, and Steve gives Bucky an apologetic smile as he’s hustled through the door, leaving Bucky alone to press his good arm to his face in a useless attempt to cool his cheeks back down.

He’s still smiling. He doesn’t stop smiling for a week after that.

-

Bucky is discharged two weeks after the match, but not before promising Madam Pomfrey that he’ll remember to return to the infirmary once a week to get his regular doses of medicine or else she’ll personally make sure that Bucky never plays another game of Quidditch ever again.

Steve visits him every single day during those two weeks. He comes to the infirmary to give Bucky his homework for the lessons he’s missed and stays behind to talk him through the new sections of the textbook they’ve covered that day, or to explain a particularly difficult part of their homework to him.

He doesn’t try to kiss Bucky, which is a crying shame, as Bucky tells Steve at least once a day, but they hold hands sometimes, and Bucky feels like a stupid fourteen-year-old girl with a bad crush, but he can’t quite bring himself to care.

The day he’s discharged, Steve is there waiting for him in their dorm room when he returns for the first time since the match against Ravenclaw, and Bucky shuts the door behind before pressing Steve into the opposite wall and finally, finally kissing him for the first time.

It’s awkward and clumsy, and their noses bump into each other uncomfortably, but it’s sweet, almost unbearably so, and Steve still tastes like the chocolate frog he’d probably just had a few minutes ago, and it’s absolutely wonderful. Bucky can’t quite believe he’s been missing out on _this_ for so long.

But he intends to make up for the lost time, and that’s the thought that crosses his mind mind when he smiles and leans forward to press his lips against Steve’s, again and again and again.

-

Seventh year comes round, and Bucky _really_ should be way too busy with the upcoming NEWTs to really care about anything else, but Steve is the exception. He has all the time in the world for Steve.

So it doesn’t come as much of a surprise when Bucky finds himself with two essays due tomorrow and a Potions test he hasn’t studied for, and yet choosing to spend his afternoon sitting in the shade of a tree by the Great Lake with Steve’s head pillowed against his thigh. They’re both supposed to be studying, and _technically_ Bucky has his Potions textbook open (although it’s lying next to him, left untouched for the past half an hour), and maybe Bucky’s going to regret it tomorrow when his potion turns yellow and starts to smell like rotten eggs but for now—for now, he’s happy.

-

The first time they try to go anywhere past kissing is also the first time they get caught.

Steve’s got Bucky pressed into the mattress, one hand sliding underneath his shirt as he presses kisses to Bucky’s jaw, and Bucky clings back, fists his hands in Steve’s hair, tugs at it with just enough force to draw a muffled groan from Steve’s throat, and—

“Fuck. I’m not here. Pretend I’m not here.”

Bucky pushes himself up to look in the direction of the doorway, and standing there is Sam, holding both hands up as if in surrender as he backs away.

“You boys have fun now. But—I’m just saying—if you’re gonna do this you should probably do it somewhere, I dunno, where I don’t _sleep at night_ , y’know? Other people sleep here, okay? I’m just saying. Just saying. But carry on with—whatever you guys were doing. And remember, I was never here.” And then he’s gone, slamming the door behind him.

Steve turns back to look at Bucky, and they both just stare at each other for a long moment before Bucky snorts.

“What a mood killer,” he murmurs, shifting himself into a seating position, and Steve moves back to sit down on the bed, looking guilty.

“He’s right, though. We shouldn’t…”

Bucky throws a pillow at Steve’s face, muttering under his breath about stupid Gryffindors and their stupid sense of justice.

-

Three months and multiple failed attempts at secret after school trysts later, Bucky discovers the Room of Requirement.

-

The realization that they have all the time in the world, that there’s no danger of getting caught or of hearing footsteps coming round the corner and breaking apart immediately, flushed and guilty, actually takes something away from the whole experience.

It leaves them raw, strips the protective shell of desperation and secrecy away until all that’s left underneath is the act itself, and nothing more.

It’s funny how, now that they’ve actually got a room for this (a room that magically supplies itself with whatever they need, even), they’re even more hesitant than before, and Steve moves as if he’s afraid he’s going to break Bucky, kissing his jawline so gently that Bucky _feels_ like he’s going to break at any moment, too.

“Steve,” Bucky says, after a full ten minutes of getting nowhere. “Time out.”

Steve pulls back, and Bucky sits up too so they’re looking at each other eye-to-eye.

“Maybe we should just take it slow,” Bucky suggests, and Steve grins, a little embarrassed, scratches the back of his neck.

“We should,” he agrees, and Bucky smiles and leans forward to kiss him, firm but chaste. When he pulls back he’s still smiling, and his hand lingers at Steve’s face, fingers brushing against the sharp edge of Steve’s jaw.

“We have time, yeah?” Bucky says, still smiling, and Steve nods, leans in to pull him to his chest.

-

Seventh year passes in a flurry of essays and tests and stress. Even Bucky, with his perchance for leaving studying to the very last minute, feels compelled to actually put in effort for the NEWT examinations because, as Steve and his more serious classmates and every single one of his professors remind him about twice a day, it’s only going to affect the rest of his life.

Plus, he and Steve promised each other in their third year that they’d both become Aurors after they graduated from Hogwarts, and Bucky fully intends to live up to that promise. Even if it means intensive after-class Potions coaching.

(While Steve has gotten significantly better at Defense Against the Dark Arts over the years, Bucky has probably gotten even _worse_ at Potions. Seriously, fuck whoever decided that the ability to brew a stupid Calming Draught was an essential part of an Auror’s training.)

As the months go by the stress levels get higher, until rumors of students passing out in the middle of class start to float through the corridors, but when the exams eventually arrive, it feels like they’re over in the blink of an eye, and all too soon, it’s graduation day.

-

“I’ll miss this,” Steve confesses, voice barely more than a whisper as he breathes the words into Bucky’s skin, presses his lips just below the shell of Bucky’s ear, and Bucky reaches out, slides both hands across the expanse of Steve’s bare back.

“I’ll miss you,” Bucky returns, but it comes out a little bit choked, and he squeezes his eyes shut as Steve stops worrying away at that spot behind Bucky’s ear that drives him halfway out of his mind to kiss Bucky firmly on the lips.

“That goes without saying,” Steve says when he pulls away, grinning, his smile a little bit crooked, and Bucky smiles back fondly, reaches up to run his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“Jerk,” Bucky says, but he’s still smiling.

They stop talking after that; just the slow slide of skin on skin, lips on lips, and then Steve’s sliding down, his lips travelling from Bucky’s jaw to his neck to his chest, further down, down, down, crossing the dips and valleys of Bucky’s bellybutton, Bucky’s inner thighs, hands skimming where his lips miss.

They don’t speak, either, when Steve slowly wraps his lips around the head of Bucky’s length, one hand reaching up to cover what his mouth can’t reach. Bucky inhales, long and drawn-out, and he’s quiet apart from the occasional hitch in breath, or when he breaks his silence to whisper Steve’s name, almost reverent, and when he comes it’s with a little gasp, murmuring “Steve, oh, Steve, Steve—” until Steve pulls out, swallowing, surging forward to kiss Bucky again, crude and desperate and lacking all the finesse that he’s picked up over the past year.

Bucky returns the favor, reaching forward to jerk Steve off, roughly, pulling once, twice, before Steve’s coming all over his hand, moaning into their kiss. He collapses in a boneless heap next to Bucky, and he pulls Bucky towards him, letting Bucky settle his head against Steve’s chest.

They’re quiet, but there is no need for words.

-

The graduation ceremony is beautiful, and even Bucky, with all his cynicism and sarcasm, has to admit it. The feast is wonderful, of course, and speeches are made, tears are shed. He hugs Sam, and Clint, and they smile at each other because it’s not the end, not really, they still have their entire lives ahead of them and many more meetings in the years to come.

Steve is there, of course. He swears that he doesn’t cry at all throughout the entire ceremony, but by the end of the headmaster’s speech his eyes are suspiciously red. Bucky doesn’t comment on it, just nudges him gently at the side and gives him a small smile.

They leave the castle the same way they came, all those years ago when they were small and young and terrified, and now for the first time in seven years they’re skimming across the surface of the Great Lake again, the boats a lot smaller than they remembered, and Steve finds Bucky’s hand in the darkness, squeezes it gently as they take their final look at Hogwarts, brightened against the night sky.

“Thanks,” Steve says, “for everything.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just squeezes Steve’s hand back, and smiles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Details for the Hogwarts graduation ceremony retrieved from the Harry Potter Wiki, which was in return retrieved from an interview with J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Title taken from the song of the same name, originally written by Cole Porter.


End file.
